


Tied Up

by theosymphany



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AU to most of my other stories, Between RE5 and RE6, Bondage, Chris is still an agent, Consensual Kink, Interrogation, M/M, Mild OoC, Piers is still with SFG, Pre-Canon, Undercover Agent, blowjob, who's teasing who?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theosymphany/pseuds/theosymphany
Summary: Tired in the middle of running intel ops, Chris Redfield checks into a hotel and crosses paths with his customer experience manager that eventually gets him tied up, spread eagled and pressed for his secrets. Luckily, Chris has himself a few tricks up his sleeves, even when he's not wearing anything.Birthday fanfic to Chris of RedfieldandNivans. Slight rework and edits from the tumblr version.





	Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedfieldandNivans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedfieldandNivans/gifts).



[](https://imgur.com/6q3rxTm)

The sun hung low in the sky as golden rays cast long shadows, even across the featureless landscape. Beyond the city, the rocky plains stood still.

The silence was cut short with a loud, rumbling cacophony. The noise grew, and the ground shook with each vibration as the old dusty craft pulled up to the best hotel in town.

Parking right at the entrance, the rider stepped onto soft velvet, leaving a fine puddle of grit on the red carpet along with a large, dusty bootprint.

"Sorry." The apology was a confident baritone, apologising to nobody in particular.

The rider stepped off the carpet and stamped his feet on the bitumen, shaking off more puffs of dust from his clothing and his body. His boots were sandy and tactical in design, and he wore a simple khaki jacket over a faded grey and green adventure shirt. He opened the carriage box at the back of his bike and retrieved his backpack, a bulky, military looking pack that definitely did not look like it would have fitted in the confined space.

He gave a fiver to the greeter who came to the bike and grinned broadly watching him gingerly dust off the seat before fighting the vibrations to stay on, throttling way too much all the way into the garage. the rider mentally braced for disaster as the bike approached the turn, but the porter crafted it beautifully.

"Welcome. This way, Sir." 

The rider turned. There standing in front of him was a slim, young man, dressed in a navy jacket lined with a black satin collar, and accented by a white ridge along the edges and a soft cloth cap. His collar was neatly pressed and almost sparkling, and not a detail was otherwise out of place.

The rider could not resist returning the confident, infectious smile, following the manager to the front desk.

"Just uh, a standard room for the night please." He said, keeping his voice deep and rumbling.

"I'll find a good suite upgrade for you Sir. It's quiet season and you look like you've aching for a rest."

The rider simply nodded. He was too tired to argue.

"Long journey?"

"It's just dusty out there."

"I'm sure you'll feel better after a hot shower and a warm meal in your belly Sir."

"Call me Chris."

"May I have photo ID please, Chris, and a card for incidentals."

The manager looked over the picture with the ever-present 5 o'clock shadow. 

Christopher Redfield. Born 6 April 1973.

He scanned everything for later and collected the room keys.

"Suite 501, level 5. I do recommend the beer and ribs in our restaurant “Guns and Buns”, and please, do give me a call if I can be of service."

"Will do", Chris said, glancing at the name badge on the lapel, 'Piers."

"And I do mean, anything. Sir." There was a slight, lopsided, mischievous smile. "I am your customer experience manager and we aim to please."

Chris opened the door to Suite 501 and sighed softly. The manager was too kind. Susie the accounts LT would have grumbled for days if she found out where he stayed. Not because of the cost, but because she couldn’t have been there.

Chris set his pack on the counter and unlaced his boots, walking around the thick carpet wriggling his toes. He shrugged and rolled his shoulders, hunched from the tension of the ride. He went straight to the bathroom and stripped in almost military precision. He hung the jacket on the hook, crossed his arms and pulled the shirt over his head, revealing a strapping, sculped torso across the almost full-length mirrors around him. He unhooked his belt and undid the buttons, letting the pocketed cargoes fall on his feet with all its weight. He stepped off, pulling off the clingy compression underpants inside out and chucked his socks in the corner with his shirt, grabbed the towel and turned the water on.

~~

Steam had filled the room, and Chris now laid naked in the jacuzzi tub, his skin red from the temperature and the good scrub down prior.

God, it feels good to be alive again.

He winced as he dipped his shoulders back below the water, gingerly prodding the green and blue spot just below his clavicle.

He spread his long legs, letting the jets massage him, over him, around him. The feel good. Almost too good. Especially down there.

He laid his head down a towel as he dipped further, his hand absentmindedly tugging his junk. He had been so intently focused on his mission he had forgotten about the pleasures of the flesh.

He should take the time to get one out. He passed his cock slowly over a jet, far enough away that it was just tingling.

He was getting aroused now. Fuck. When was the last release? He couldn't remember. Life for the longest while was just staying alive and getting to sleep.

His wandering mind raced through the horrors and gore of the last few days, desperately trying to anchor onto something hopeful. Pleasant. Radiant. 

Sexy.

He thought about the smile, and the perfect teeth, and the dimples. Full pink lips and inquisitive hazel eyes of the young man he just saw. The way he spoke. The precision of his demeanour.

Fuck. Now that's a finely put together work of art.

His closed his eyes as he grabbed himself, slightly faster now, letting the current run just along the underside of his cock.

Piers.

Fuck.

Oh Piers.

What was that last smile about? He must have meant something about...

Service.

No.... that couldn't be... he'd never...

But he would.... imagine if he could rip that uniform off that lean body and hold him close, to grab that pert butt of his and make him cry his name. He was pretty sure beneath the uniform would be a toned body. Youthful with vigour.

Fuck.

His stomach growled and Chris groaned. He has many needs to sate apparently. A hot meal. A safe stay. Somewhere where he doesn’t have to watch his own back.

The irony. He chuckled to himself as the mirrors around showed his every angle. He liked what he saw.

He stepped up, steam emanating from every pore, and water cascading down between the peaks and valleys of his muscles, running down his abs and between his legs.

He dried himself and dressed in a blue plaid shirt and jeans, and his only pair of boots.

Ribs it is. He would have a full rack. Maybe two.

"Alpha to HQ. This is Redwing. I've reached the lodging for the night and have checked in. Over."

"Good to hear Redwing. We will check back with you upon arrival tomorrow. Have a good night and enjoy your stay. Over" 

"Copy. Redwing Out."

Official business over. Time to party.

~~

Now that he's fed and warm, Chris looked over the signs and pamphlets on the bed. It was only 7:30. The night is young.

There's the standard breakfast orders. A do not disturb sign that said 'Tied Up' or 'Tidy Up' on alternating sides, and various menus. One of them was a mystical purple and caught his eye:

Customer experience program

We are dedicated to customer 'service' and looking after all your needs. Call our customer experience manager and ask for the 'secret menu' to access our options including massage services, companions services and more!

~~

Well well, they do do things differently over here.

Or is that because he's in one of these penthouse suite things and they're standard practice? For once felt he had not experienced enough to tell.

But hey, first time in anything.

No, he couldn't... what if they put that on the bill.

He gave his own credit card though. And he hadn't spent a cent on himself for months. Even the medical stuff was taken care of.

Customer experience manager... wait, that's what Piers said he was, right?

He couldn't possibly... he seems so young, and clean cut, almost out of a catalogue. Would he do something like that?

What does he have to lose? The boy seemed eager to please.

\--

"Ops to HQ, Ops to HQ"

"HQ this is Eagle. The subject has checked in, identity is Christopher Redfield- yes. Rome Echo Delta Foxtrot India Echo Lima Delta and goes by Chris. I have forwarded a copy of his ID to you.

"Negative, he doesn't suspect anything. Looks like just another tired traveller. Affirmative- I'll keep a lookout for that. Right. And continuing to gather HUMINT. Hmm. That's a negative, no further resources necessary.

Piers put the phone down as he fidgeted about. The staff looked at him with a bemused regard but he was beyond caring at this point. Inserting as an operative into the hotel is a rather crazy idea he has to admit. Who is this man and why is command interested in him?

Eagle is a common enough call sign, though Piers had earned it in this unit because of his powers of observation and deduction.

He hadn't reported everything in case.... in case he had reasons not to. A soldier follows orders first, and second, and third, but he's not just any old GI Joe.

When he was briefed, he thought the subject might have been a hardened criminal. Crude, crass, vicious. Dangerous.

He did not expect the tall, broad and handsome hunk who turned up. He was clear weary, almost at his weakest, as would a fugitive upon entering a sanctuary. Above all, he was genuine. That was not fake ID.

His stance, his build, his gear. They mean business also. He was among the group of men Piers would find hard to counter physically.

Was Chris wearing combat boots instead of motorcycle boots out of habit? Comfort? What is the smell that he had trailing him?

The nearby surroundings are not dusty enough to build up the way he did. He had already tried to analyse what he could from the large sandy boot print. There is organic matter involved. Necrotic tissue.

His gear... there appeared to have been a lot, and although it was dirty Piers saw holes in the shirt that weren't caused by wear.

Then there was the glint in his eyes. There was weariness, but also contentment, and a little warmth, a glow that Piers couldn't put his finger on, but one that the voice inside tells him to trust.

If Chris is indeed a rogue agent, what is he doing here? Why wasn't he extracted out? There has been no helicopter traffic in and out.

Why the loud bike if was so covert? It was registered in Montana, two or three states away, but it did not belong to Chris or any agency of interest.

So many questions, but none alarming. That in itself should have been alarming, but instead…

This was not going to be a push-over. He was going to have to get Chris to talk.

One way or another.

He checked the mirrored pillar and quickly preened himself. 

~~

Knock knock knock.

Chris opened the door and smiled when he saw it was the cute manager in the uniform. He invited him inside and shut the door.

"Good evening Mr Redfield, I trust you have settled in well? Is the suite to your liking?" He asked. 

"Yes. Simply fantastic." 

"Well Sir, we only have your suite occupied, and as your customer experience manager I would like to discuss if you have had any time to consider if there are any ways we can meet _all_ your needs?"

"Oh. That. Oh." Chris swallowed nervously, glancing into the inquisitive hazel eyes and darting quickly away.

"Uh... I've had a good shower and a good meal. Fantastic room too."

"Perhaps a massage to take the ache of the road away? All on the house, I promise."

"Well, it'd be nice, but... I have a question."

"Fire away Sir"

"Why are you guys so giving...? Like do you do this to everyone?"

"As you know Sir, we are the largest and best hotel in the area Sir, but tourism in this part of the country has dropped off a cliff lately from the unfortunate bad press and perceptions of danger. We are eager to renew efforts and invite our customers back. They may be fearful of venturing out, but they would find the resort style experience may rival every pretty penny spent elsewhere without ever having to step out."

"I see. I mean it's a pretty clever idea... get a reason for people to stay I guess." Chris chuckled. "Why would you bother with me though? I'm not your normal range of clientele, I imagine."

"If I'm not mistaken you’re from the East coast." Piers said. "That is one of our key target demographics, we'd hope you could put in a good word for us, that's all." He smiled. 

"Well well then... in that case, I better get sample some material to talk about!" Chris said. "On one condition.”

"Yes Sir?"

"I want the cutest guy on your team."

Piers blinked. Somewhere deep within, he was relieved he did not have to ask the girls for help.

"You know, latte brown hair, slim build, 5'10, dazzling smile, dimples and eager to please, or something like that."

The brown eyes danced with a spark of wildfire and desire. Piers felt his heart somehow skipping a bit.

Sniper breaths damn it! Count if you have to!

"I… would be personally willing to assist. I can assure I'm every bit capable. Shall we start with a massage and see where we go from there?"

"Massage away." Chris said with an inviting smile of his own. His cock twitched in his pants in anticipation.

He watched as Piers went to a cupboard and pulled out some supplies. A couple of rocks, lotion, towels, and he put a giant, fluffy towel over the bed.

"Please take off your shirt and jeans, Sir."

"Underwear?"

"That too, if you'd like to save washing." Piers smiled.

"How about you give me a hand?" Chris cocked an eyebrow.

“Gladly.” Piers had now stepped closer, only a pace away from him.

"Nice choice of cologne out of the sample collection Sir. Few men make the Reaction come alive like you do."

"I just liked the bottle." Chris chuckled.

Piers avoided Chris's eyes, stepping even closer as he undid the top buttons of Chris' shirt. He could feel Chris's body heat radiating out along with his scent. The nice notes of the fragrance mingled with a body chemistry that is alluring and deep and unapologetically masculine. 

Piers steadied his hands as he unbuttoned the cuffs, feeling Chris's pulse as he does so. He pulled the shirttail out and took the shirt off, hanging it neatly in the wardrobe. 

Phew. What a sight.

"I like your dogtags. Not so in fashion now, but they work for you."

Chris held his dogtags and studied them. He had been so accustomed to wearing them, or even that they exist.

"Shall I take them off?" 

"Only if you want to." 

“Then no.” He let them rest between his pecs.

"You are in the armed forces?" There seemed to be a little quiver in Piers's voice.

"Used to be."

Chris swore he could see those hazel pupils dilate a little and surged with pride.

Slender fingers worked cleanly to pull open Chris's belt, and Chris felt a little vulnerable as Piers moved around his crotch, pulling the belt off, and then reaching in and undoing his pants, brushing against the mat of hair from his treasure trail. He stepped out, knowing full well his hard outline cannot be missed.

"Oh boy." Piers held a towel up around Chris as he lowered his boxers. He swapped the pillow for something smaller that Chris could fold his arms against.

"There we are, please lie on the bed face down and think happy thoughts. I'm just going to warm these rocks for you"

Chris sighed softly, trying not to think any more than he dared.

"There. Just relax. I'll tidy up and do more prep."

Chris felt warm rocks being placed along his spine and the top of his butt. It was a strange sensation, warm but revitalising. Piers worked very quickly, and he certainly seem practiced.

\--

Piers put on something soothing over the speakers as he processed all this information. It was hard to read without being obvious, but the dogtags did not say which branch of military Chris was in, not even the United States. It simply said "BSAA". What is that? At least he knows Chris's blood type is O positive. If that matters.

Piers darted to the bathroom to grab more towels and quickly surveyed the sight. Out of habit he picked up Chris's shirt to hang it up. He sniffed it without thinking, but it wasn't just the scent of Chris. There was blood, and something vile. He saw tears, and marks, and scraping. The shirt had been through a lot. As though its owner was sliding around or been thrashing out in the bushes.

Compression shorts were slightly damp and were slightly stretched. Not surprising given the thickness of the thighs and the monster in Chris' pants. Piers put everything into the wash basket.

He checked the pockets of the jacket but found nothing of interest. There was no branding on the jacket either. He did not want to move the pants around. There was too much in them and Chris would have heard the rattle.

He looked over Chris's boots. They were large and well broken in. The sole was dusty but also had remnants of dried material. He got out some moist towelettes and wiped some samples off, giving them a very quick polish in the process.

He didn't touch the pack but it was definitely geared for military purposes. He saw the antenna of a comms device. There’s the mahogany handle of a rather large machete and what looks to be a gun belt.

Chris was definitely not just any traveller. He's armed. Heavily so for this part of the world.

Though disrobed, disarmed and outwardly vulnerable in his current state.

Piers rubbed oil on to his hands as he returned to the table.

"I'm going to give you a light head to toe massage. Let me know what feels good and what doesn't, or any other requests."

Chris grumbled under his breath, trying not to fall asleep yet. He needed to be alert for this.

He wouldn’t want to wake up and think it was all a dream.

Piers first rubbed oil across Chris' back and upper arms. What struck him was not just the size of Chris but his muscle tone. His muscles were hard to the touch, reflecting not just of gym usage but of undeniable, practical strength. His skin was good but as Piers rubbed the oil in he noticed the scars. The twin holes on the back of his arm where it looked like either a giant snake or baby sabertooth had had its fun, the rest was laced with scratches, knife marks and probably what were bullet graze marks and teeth marks too.

Chris must have been a veteran, or a lion tamer, safari hunter or something like that. The dogtags are not for fashion.

Beneath the scars and callouses, it was hard not to be distracted by the beauty of the male form that Chris is. His back is perfectly symmetric as broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and firm, muscular cheeks.

Chris groaned as Piers worked over his butt, clearly in discomfort as his cock jutted out beneath him. Piers stole glances but knew he'd see it all soon.

He eventually got Chris to flip over. He again avoided Chris' gaze as they gave each other a once over. Looking at his taunt pectorals, the pair of bulging guns on his arms, sinewy and veiny forearms to strong fingers. The corrugated obliques and picture perfect abs. The firmness of his tapered waist and tufts of hair from belly button to his groin. The perfect dusting of hair over his thighs and the denser mat framing the fruit of his loins. Between the spread muscular legs were the might of Chris Redfield, a thick, veiny, imposing stalk that hung a third of the way down to his knees, the skin soft and glistening under the warm dim light of the room. Beneath the heavy cock were clear outlines of twin egg shaped balls hanging loose and low, dusted with a smattering of brown hair with the slightest tinge of rust. Rocky thighs tapered down to long calves and large, powerful feet. Chris is the perfect exemplar of the male form in any prose and composition.

He looked back up only to see Chris gazing straight at him. Before he knew it, Piers had blushed all the way down his neck. He had no idea how long Chris had been looking at him, but there was no disapproval on his face. Only desire, and longing.

"Why don't you get naked as well." Chris said, reaching a hand to run it over Piers' arm. “Uniform’s cute, but I’m sure you look as good out of them.”

Piers stripped unceremoniously, trying to not make it a big deal at all then concentrated working over Chris' muscles, being careful not to aggravate the rather jarring bruise under his clavicle. As he worked his way down his abs Chris pointed erect, his cock jutting proudly towards himself while his balls still rested heavily on the seat. All the while he could feel Chris’ gaze over him like the warmth of a searchlight.

Piers jumped while a large paw cupped his butt. “Why don't you have a taste? It'd be a good experience."

Piers nodded as he lowered himself. Chris looked only bigger the closer down he got and he had no idea how it was going to work. He resolved to hide his inexperienced awkwardness, coming down but instead of taking Chris's cock he kissed his balls, feeling their warmth and surprising size as he took in Chris's aroma.

Chris rolled his eyes back and groaned.

Unable to delay longer, Piers wet his lips and brushed them against the tip of Chris's cut cock lightly. Chris's dick bounced in excitement, and Piers grabbed it by the base, licking and tracing the seam from his taint up his balls and up the underside of his heavy cock.

Chris curled his toes as the tongue went halfway up his shaft and he sighed as it teased its way up, intensifying when reaching his frenulum and the glans.

"Oh fuck. Piers," he said as Piers licked around him, and over him, and jerked him with a comfortably firm grip. Though Piers was not taking him in his mouth, he did everything else spot on, as good as how he liked it.

"Do it." He half commanded, half pleaded impatiently as Piers pulled away again. This time, Piers opened wide and in one stroke lowered his lips a third of the way down.

Piers paused, catching his breath and told himself to relax as he slid down slowly. He could feel the tip of Chris' cock in his throat only 2/3 of the way down.

Damn. It was too big to take to the hilt.

Piers gripped the last part of Chris's shaft and stroked in time with his oral administrations, slowly and quickly, and quickly and slowly. He didn't know exactly why or how he knew what to do but perhaps it was instinct when you get a cock in your mouth. There was nothing he wasn't willing to give. Mission comes first.

"Is this up for offer too? Chris asked, cupping his hand on Piers's butt.

The boy hesitated but smiled sweetly. "For you Sir, everything is up for grabs."

"and this?" Chris held Pier's package in his hands.

"Even my progeny." Piers said.

"Haha. don't be so serious." Chris said, lightly caressing Pier's own balls and uncut cock. "You're pretty hot yourself.”

Chris watched as Piers worked over him. He probably wouldn't last long, and he wouldn't hold back. He hadn't cum in weeks and who gives a fuck as he would reload quickly. It is an experience alright. He's feeling pride. Pride over the handsome young man treating his cock as an object of worship. There is service, but there is more than that there. He could feel that the man was not putting up an act. That he genuinely admired him, that they connected beyond a carnal level even as he fucked his oh so pouty and full lips.

"Piers." Chris tried to warn the boy as the inevitable nears.

Piers smiled and opened his mouth, then engulfing as much of Chris as he could. On his way sliding up Chris erupted, grunting loudly as his hips bucked, hitting Piers in the roof of his mouth and causing him to gag, and release his cock. Chris wasted no time spewing thick, white ropes of cum over his face, his hair and body.

He had marked him with his spunk.

Piers had ignored the cum on his face, delicately working the last drops that dribbled out of Chris and licking it off like a lollypop and swallowing, looking so pleased with the taste. Piers sucked on Chris's balls which have been drawn tight against either side of Chris's cock and they smiled.

"Come here." Chris smiled as he pulled Piers close and kissed him, tasting the tangy saltiness and bitterness within.

They kissed for what seemed like hours. The boy was so young, and green, but sweet, and eager and possessed a learning curve of mere minutes. By the time they were wanting to clean up the cum had liquefied, soaking streaks in Piers's hair and making a mess between their bodies.

"Sorry about that." Chris said, his voice lowered from his relaxed state. "I hadn't cum for weeks."

"I noticed." Piers said, trying to clean up with a towel. "I’m sure there's plenty more where that came from. Are you happy with my service?" 

"The best ever." Chris said. "Though I'm not quite sure how I'm gonna go talking about that one. The best blowjobs in town?"

They shared a chuckle.

"Have you ever..." Chris glanced at Piers, who was still at full mast.

“No.” Piers said without thought until he had realised his mistake. Chris grinned. “An inexperienced experience manager?”

“Under probation; unless Sir would like to take me under his wing?”

He was as quick with his response as with his fingers as Chris surveyed the young flesh with his touch. 

“I used to fly you know.”

“You’re a zoomie?” Piers sounded shocked.

“Is that what the kids call us nowadays?” Chris scratched his head. “Yeah, once upon a time.” He played with his dogtags. It’s not the same set he had when he was a pilot. He remembered the regret he had having to hand those in.

Of course, he still flies sometimes. When command isn’t watching too closely, but he can’t talk about that to a random hotel service manager.

“What happened since?” Piers asked innocently, passing Chris another towel to clean up.

Chris absent minded wiped himself down. “Joined the police, special unit, then we had a traitor, and things fell apart from there.”

“That… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I didn’t say I-”

“It’s in your eyes.”

The kid was bright. 

“It’s my job to notice the little things- the difference between good service and exceptional service is in the details.” Piers must have noticed something and brushed it off quickly.

Chris reached out to the boy’s still jutting cock. “I hadn’t forgotten about that detail.”

“Sir, you come first and foremost in my services.” Piers smiled, trying to squirm from his touch. “It does not matter whether I…”

“What if I want to experience jerking my servicer?”

“You have a way with words Sir.”

Chris gripped tighter and faster.

“and your hands, Sir.” Piers huffed.

“How long since you shot your wad, kid?” Chris asked.

“Sir…”

“My turn for questions.”

“A week Sir.”

“You have a partner?”

“No Sir.”

“You ever get off doing these services?”

“When I’m with you Sir.”

Chris was impressed with the control of the young man. When he was 19 or however old this kid is he’d have blown it in a minute. Then again, you don’t get much privacy time in the shared rooms on base.

“Don’t fight it, kiddo.”

“Sir. Yes Sir.”

“You’re fighting it.”

“No Sir.”

“Cum for me.”

Piers grunted, trying to buck his hips. Despite Chris’ touch, and being hard as a rock he wasn’t budging. 

Chris gave up for now.

“Fine then. I’ll get it sooner or later.”

He heard Piers sigh. His cock still jutted out, and he was flushed from attention and arousal. Chris decided to go easy.

“Next time, gimme what I want.” 

“Yes Sir.”

“What have you got planned next?”

“A little… bondage?”

“Oh. Kinky.” Chris said, trying to keep his voice neutral. The kid is up to something.

“As in tied up?”

“Yes.” Somehow that enthralled him.

“Are you being tied up, or me?”

“Have you been tied up before?”

Chris thought for a moment. “Yes.”

Piers grinned.

“It wasn’t sexual in the slightest.”

“Oh.” Piers looked horrified. “My apologies.”

Chris simply nodded. He’d go along with this. “What cha got? Ropes? Duct tape? Poison ivy?”

“Couple of scarves. Don’t you worry.”

“On the bed?” 

“It’d be the easiest.” Piers said, opening another cupboard and taking out scarves. Light green, netted, almost like a shemagh.

Chris submitted, letting himself be led to the bed and spread-eagled.

He watched as Piers tied him delicately, but with a practiced grace to handles along the mattress. The scarves wouldn’t hurt him and the knots he chose could be slipped out of. It was more of a simulation and an experience. He relaxed a little. Years of facing danger made this experience very vulnerable, but especially sensual for him.

He was rock hard again.

How silly he must look now, strong as he is, bound by a couple of scarves.

It was the fear of losing control. Part of being a leader, being the alpha male was being the one in charge. The one calling the shots. Lose control just once and you lose your life. Can he trust the boy? Is this pure, innocent roleplay?

Piers held up the sign that said ‘Tied up.’ “Just gonna put this on the door.”

“I didn’t know that was literal.”

“It is now. Would you like a safeword?” Piers asked.

Chris was surprised he asked at all, though he was naïve enough to have to ask what that was. “Baseball.”

“Kinky”

“Shut up.” 

“Sir, I will ask you to focus and play along with me. imagine you have been captured, stripped and tied down. What do you say when you wake up?”

“You’re cute.”

Piers blushed slightly. “If it was someone else? Like an…. Adversary.”

Chris raised his voice. “I’d say- ‘What the hell is going on here Wesker?’”

It caught the boy off guard.

“You’ve been captured, and you are my prisoner. Tell me everything I want to know.”

“You look cute when you’re angry.”

“Sir, try to play the part.”

“Doesn’t matter so longer as I’m having fun.” Chris smiled, it’s so fun to tease the boy.

“You like my big cock?”

Piers ignored him and grabbed his dogtags.

“I see you are an…. Officer Redfield. From the B dot S dot A dot A dot SOU.”

“I demand you tell me about the BSAA.”

Chris furrowed his brows. Is that it?

“That’s classified.”

Piers grinned. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Why?”

“Now I get to tease it out of you. Spit it out or I’ll get it out one way or another.”

Chris squirmed as Piers edged closer and ran his hands along his arms, down his torso and on his abs.

“Why is it so important?”

“It exists to protect people I care about.”

Fingers twisted his nipple lightly.

“Even at your expense?”

Chris stayed silent as the pain grew.

“How many of you are there.”

“I’m not telling. Ahhh!”

He had not expected the pain.

“Oh. Shall I kiss and make it better?” 

Pain, to pleasure.

“What are you doing in this town?”

“Passing through.”

“Ahhhh!!” Piers had nipped him with his teeth.

“You have blood on your hands, don’t you.”

“No. It’s the blood of vengeance.”

“Are you the law?”

“In certain matters, yes. And you’d be on my side, if only you knew.”

Piers went away, and when he’s back he held a light leather swatter.

“Time for a bit of fun. Where are you based?”

“Not saying, spy scum.”

Piers whacked him on his thigh.

“How many of you?” Whack.

“Who’s in charge?” Whack.

It actually doesn’t sting much, but Chris is no longer sure if this is a game, a role play, a dare gone too far, or….

“Where are you from?” He asked in response.

“Gahhhh.” Chris convulsed as his nipple was smacked. He pulled at his restraints for relieve, but it only hurt more.

“I’m asking the questions here. Prisoner.” Hazel eyes stare directly into his own, but Chris could see no hatred. Only curiosity.

“Why don’t you ask me something more fun?”

“Asking the bound what they don’t like to yield is the most fun.” Piers smirked.

Damn he’s a lovable little shit.

“Who asked you to spy on me?” Chris had to know.

SMACK. It was on his ribs. Chris tried to laugh it off.

“It’s only gonna get worse from here. Prisoner.” Piers said. Swatting lightly, inching ever closer to his groin.

“You can take it big guy.” SMACK.

“Use those muscles.” SMACK.

“Yeah, you’re a tough one alright.” SMACK.

Chris grunted. It had really started to hurt. Just a little. Besides, he figured the boy liked the noises he was making.

“What is you mission, kiddo—ARRRRRGHHH.” 

Piers had smacked him square in the balls.

“FUUUCK!!” He strained against the scarves, only stopping when he heard a string rip. 

“What, you’re not a fan of scrambled eggs?”

Chris heaved and tried to close his legs, but Piers prodded him again and again.

“All these muscles, bought down by two nuggets and a cock.”

“FUCK OFF!”

“Who’s the big man now? Ooh. Have I hurt your manly pride?” He cooed.

Chris panted. He wish he wasn’t erect either, it pulled his sack and now it’s hurting more.

“FUCK YOU.” 

“At this state, only you are getting fucked, prisoner.” He put on that cute boy look again, glancing up and down Chris’ cock.

Chris felt nervous about what he might do next. The boy looked serious. Sometimes being big is a curse.

“The BSAA is not the bad guys, kiddo.”

“Then what are you?”

“Vestige of the last hope left in the world.”

“Sounds like a cult.” Piers rolled his eyes.

“You heard of bioterrorism?”

“You’re a terrorist group?” SMACK!

“Gaaaaahhh!” Piers clearly didn’t like terrorists. A bright red mark burned across Chris’s chest.

“Anti! Huff. Terrorist!” He said through gritted teeth

“That’s what they all say.” Smack!

It was lighter, but it still stung.

“How do I know you’re not just saying it to please me?”

“What do you have to hate against terrorists?” Chris asked. “You’re just a hotel worker.”

“I….” Piers was taken aback.

“I’m patriotic.”

“If you’re patriotic you’d volunteer, not sit here playing spy kids.”

The colour rose in Piers’ face quickly. “You wouldn’t know a volunteer if he tied you up and smacked you across the butt.” 

Whack.

“Try me.” Chris almost laughed if he wasn’t now getting smacked on the butt. Well the sides of it anyway.

Smack. Smack.

OK he deserved that one, but the kid had blown his cover. Time to be on the offense.

“Who called you here.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Nobody.”

“Your technique is slipping. You’re caring too much.”

Piers gritted his teeth. “I am not a spy.”

“And I’m not a terrorist.”

“You’re insane.”

“Baseball. We gotta chat. Kiddo.”

Chris figured the kid probably had good motives. Piers pouted as he untied him, like a puppy having to put its favourite toy away. Before he knew it he was freed.

“That hurt.” Chris said, tracing gingerly along the red marks and light welts.

“You’ve had worse.” Piers smiled, instantly stepping back to his sweet persona. “The scars tell me so.”

“Aye. I’ve spent more time in hospital then you on a bed.”

“Must have been a shitty pilot.”

Chris fought to uncurl his fist. That kid had a mouth that needed breaking.

“What branch are you kiddo? Definitely not the USAF. You’re a frog? Jarhead?”

Piers looked paranoid.

“It’s time to see how much of a patriot you really are.” Chris said, gently.

“The BSAA is not American. We belong to the UN. To fight bio-terrorism, the latest global acts of desperation. Remember Racoon City? You were just a kid then, but it wasn’t a chemical plant explosion. It was bioterrorism nipped in the bud. Remember Terragrigia? That wasn’t a satellite tech fuckup. That was bioterrorism. Death numbered in the tens of thousands.”

Piers stayed silent.

“The US of A watched in apathy, maintaining the pretence of a front that all was A-OK and pushing on to be the global police bullshit.” Chris said. “No matter how much budget you spend on defence, you ain’t got keep the bigger gun. And a bigger gun doesn’t mean nothing when sticks and stones could take you down.”

“I know you probably had orders to investigate me. You hid it well kiddo, but not from me.”

Piers furrowed his brows and pouted.

“Being cute is your strength, but you’re not as calm as you think you are. You gave it all up when you tried to rile me up.”

Seeing his words cut home, Chris went for the kill. 

“I knew you’re a soldier the moment you called me Sir.”

Piers opened his mouth but Chris raised his hand. “No. The service profession does not use Sir the way you do. A service member, however, does. Drilled in from day one of boot camp. It’s too natural to be roleplay, kiddo, and I’ve slapped enough boots into shape. 

“As someone so kindly told me earlier, it’s all in the details. You’re still pretty wet-behind-the-ears kid. Who picked a private first class for this shit?”

Piers looked disgusted with himself.

“You’re smart enough not to get a tattoo at least. That would have blown your cover right away.”

“Chris, we can’t be having this conversation. This is called—”

“-Short circuiting. I read the manuals too. Gave lectures on it myself.” Chris stopped him, then continued. “I’m not US military. I’m not a cult or a mercenary group like you think. We are part of the UN.” 

“You’re just lying to cover up”.

‘I’m allowed to reveal myself to agents of my choosing.”

“But only agents and decision makers could—”

Chris shrugged with a smug look.

“No. No. NO. I must forget everything I’ve heard tonight.” Piers was distraught.

“Hey hey hey.” Chris grabbed him closer. “It’s OK.”

“No it’s not. I ruined our assignment, blown our cover, jeopardised our intel…”

“Stop right there.” Chris hugged the boy closer, skin to skin.

“I don’t want to forget tonight.” He said, gently.

“The sex?”

“The intimacy.”

“It’s just a blowjob.”

“Look in my eyes and tell me that was just a blowjob to you.”

“Piers, you’re good at lots of things, but not with staying cool enough. Or hiding your emotions from your persona. I don’t know where you are from or who sent you. You have blown nothing.”

“I know you’re a soldier, of the US of A, and incredibly bright and observant. And patriotic, apparently. I know a handful of Ops groups who value people like you and do your type of work. And given our location I could narrow it down further, but I won’t.”

“I’ll be ruined.”

“You won’t.”

“What am I going to report back?”

“Whatever you want. The truth, the lies, nothing. It’s all up to you. I lose nothing if an Ops group thinks I’m no longer a terrorist or mass murderer. And perhaps give me freedom of operation. And intel. And room services.”

Piers took a deep breath.

“We have had 35 people disappear recently in a remote region 2 hour away from here. Records was that an agent matching your description was the only person sighted leaving the area.”

“You’re good. I give you that.” 

“Why didn’t they extract you?”

“Because my mission isn’t finished.”

“It’s not?”

“I had put a stop to the 35… threats. But the ones responsible are still out there.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Intel.”

“On you own?”

“I don’t look it, but ’m a pretty observant and capable kind, don’t you agree?” Chris smiled as he ran his hands down Piers’s back.

“Can I help?”

“Have you ever had an experience like this?” He pressed his cock against the crack.

He felt Piers tense up.

“What do you mean? This? Or… that? But you’re huge!”

“You can take it.”

“Why are you talking ops and playing with me like this?”

“Because you’re distracted and I’m not.”

“Why do you need to distract me?”

“Because you’re hot when you can’t think straight. And you’re cuter when you’re angry at me for using your body.”

Fists pounded at his chest.

“Ow. Watch for the scar!”

“You deserve it!”

“Remember how I said my mission isn’t finished?”

“Yeah?”

“I need others to help it continue. Private.”

“I’m not a private.”

“Well, you have nice ones anyway. You could join me.”

“That would be a demotion!”

“What do you want to be then?”

“Your deputy?”

“Done. Welcome, First Lieutenant Piers uhh….”

“Nivans.”

“First Lieutenant Piers Nivans.”

“Are you only a captain? Are they high ranking in your organisation? Damn I feel cheap. Command is so going to kill me.”

“No. They are so going to kill me.” Chris laughed. A deep, guttural belly laugh.

“Do you try to recruit every guy you meet?”

“Just the cute ones.”

“Dayum.” Piers shook his head. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

“I’m gonna review your dossier tonight.”

“You can get it just like that?”

“I’m a well-connected man. Pull a string here or there, someone else will yield. Of course, I can always get it from the source, from my personal, customer experience manager.’

“Sounds like you’ve done more bondage than me.”

“It can be just you and me. No strings attached.”

“But you just said you feel attached.”

“Shit.”

“You’re those lazy taskmaster types I bet.”

“I’m out in the field. I set an example for my men.”

“Most mentors die to teach valuable life lessons for the future generations.”

“Then my death would be in glory.” He paused for a moment, then added. “Wanna go out with a bang?” 

“Let’s.” Piers said, tossing Chris a rubber.

~~

“Ops to HQ.”

“Yeah Eagle reporting in. What, you got wind already? Affirmative, tango is not a person of interest. Negative Sir I did not use physical force. Well maybe a little. But it made sense in context! I promise. You know that I know the limits. Negative, I don’t need to be extracted. I am staying low in the hotel for a few more days. Affirmative, he’s staying too. Exactly, I can keep him in my sights. Yes Sir. Always Sir. Eagle out.”

~~

“Redwing here. I want the entire service and family history of a Piers Nivans on my PDA by tomorrow noontime. Over.

“Yes, it will be classified. Nivans. November India Victor Alpha November Sierra. Do not notify our friends in the USSOCOM. No, not the director either. Make up an excuse. Anything. Over”

“Oh and drop by recruitment and tell Hays to prepare a package and not stuff it up like the last one. I agree, he has potential. The best type. Say again? Negative, probably won’t need a full assessm—wait, no it’s OK, let him take all the tests. I want to see how good he is on the field and what I’m getting. Redwing out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this rather AU recruitment fic. Drop me a line on what you think!


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